10 Things Daryl Dixon Taught Me
by colbyjackchz
Summary: 10 things Carl learns from a very special redneck...who might just have a soft side!
1. Honesty

**10 Things Daryl Dixon Taught Me**

**#1 Tell The Truth**

Well hell. Daryl shuffled through the saddlebags of his brother's motorcycle and threw everything out…only to put it all back in again. Cursing to himself he went to the other one on the left side. He frowned as he set Merle's bag of pills on the seat and proceeded to dump all the other shit on the ground, not finding what he was looking for.

"Where the hell did I put that gun?" Daryl growled to himself.

He knew for sure the last time he had it he had stuffed the gun in his saddlebag. Putting the pills in carefully on top, Daryl closed the saddlebag angrily and cursed under his breath. How could he have lost his own pistol? Just as his simmering thoughts were about to overflow, a soft voice broke the silence.

"Daryl…"

Daryl turned around and was about to give someone a piece of his mind when he saw who it was. Carl Grimes was standing there with Rick's sheriff's hat, too big for the kid, on his head like usual. The hat covered his eyes but he was almost certain nervousness was there, but his actions showed it. The boy was nervously twitching, fiddling with something in his hand.

"Whaddya want kid-"

Daryl then realized exactly what he had in his hand…Daryl's pistol. His eyes widened in surprise at first but quickly narrowed again as he took a few steps toward the boy.

"Where'd you find that boy? Did you take it from my motorcycle?" Daryl questioned in a low voice.

He could feel his anger rising in his chest, that wasn't a toy. The boy could get himself killed, and then he'd never hear the end of it from Lori and Rick.

"No no…I…" Carl stuttered, eyes wide.

It was obvious that the boy was scared of him. Hell, most of the camp was scared of him, and he liked it that way. Daryl was a loner, he couldn't let that emotional shit get to him. It always ended out bad, just like Merle said time and time again.

But there was one thing he couldn't stand, even if he'd done his fair share over the years, lying. Well sure, he could stand it, but it just wasn't something he took pride in doing. Most everything else didn't bother him, but this seemed like one of those annoying little things that wouldn't leave his conscience.

"Carl, tell me the truth. Did you take it er' not?" Daryl asked firmly, taking the gun roughly from the boy and setting it on the black leather seat of the bike.

Carl looked down, the hat's wide brim almost swallowing the boy's face. Daryl got down on one knee, eye level to him, and gave him a stare down. Honestly he couldn't even believe he was doing this, what did it matter? Besides the fact that he got his gun back, why was he even concerned with Carl's lying habits? Was it because some part of him cared? No, stop, Merle would be giving him a good head full if he knew what had just crossed Daryl's mind.

"Yeah…I did…" Carl confessed.

Daryl rubbed his stubble and looked down, then back up at Carl who was looking scared but at the same time sheepish. With Merle mentally cursing him, Daryl realized…it had to be done. He had to tell Carl how it was.

"Listen. I'm not one fer advice, but I do know this. If there is one thing I have little patience fer, it's lyin. Am I mad you took it? Yeah, of course I am, but I want you to learn," Daryl said, forcing out the words.

Carl's gaze was locked on his, which hopefully meant he was listening, cause' Daryl Dixon wasn't repeating this. Ever.

"Now I'm not yer mother. I'm just telling ya, lyin can get ya into some purty big holes. Some you might not be able to dig yerself out of. Don't do it again, ya here? Cause' next time I'll let yer folks know you've been stealin," Daryl instructed.

Carl looked at him before smiling, pushing the hat up. Daryl couldn't help but feel something warm in the pit of his stomach, which he wasn't sure if he hated or enjoyed. His inner Merle was drowning in whatever this was… Daryl wasn't sure; maybe the right thing was okay to do once in a while.

"Thanks Daryl. I won't do anything like that ever again," Carl promised.

Daryl got up, "Good. Now go along, yer mother's probably worried that chu' got ate by a walker."

Carl gave him one last grin before bounding off toward the house. Daryl watched him go with his hands crossed over his chest, with a slight smirk on his own face. That feeling returned again, making the redneck sigh with confusion, how strange to accept this…feeling.

One thing he couldn't deny though was that it felt strangely good to not unload on this kid. He sometimes needed a break from this hellish world. Halfway there, Carl stopped in the middle of the field, quickly turning around.

"One more thing. Will you teach me how to shoot Daryl?" Carl yelled.

Daryl strained his ears, but couldn't believe the nonsense he was hearing. The kid wanted _him_ of all people to teach him? Daryl didn't say anything at first, out of words. Carl eagerly stood there and waited for him to yell back. Daryl finally thought of something to say. Perhaps it was too over used, but it would either get him out of a hole, or score him a kid for a student.

Daryl raised his voice, "Maybe."

Carl smiled before turning around, apparently accepting that for an answer. Daryl watched him until he was up by the house, clambering up the stairs to go meet the others. Daryl walked back over to the motorcycle and grabbed his small, black handgun, rolling it over in his hand to check for damage.

It was in perfect condition, not a scratch, just like he'd left it yesterday. At least the boy had enough sense not to break it, even if he knew close to nothing about handling one. Daryl pursed his lips and leaned against the bike, considering his question.

"Aw, what the hell," Daryl exclaimed, shaking his hand with a smirk.

He'd teach the kid how to shoot.

* * *

**A/N:**** Hope you liked it so far! The idea came out of nowhere so I decided I better write it, or it won't cease to bug me. :) Please review and tell me what you think, it'd be so awesome! Plus it motivates me! Thanks, and until next chapter.**


	2. Strength

**#2 Strength**

Daryl lowered Rick's pistol, coming up from a crouch and handing it to him wordlessly. Rick accepted it with a numb look on his face, staring down at the man that was considered the humanity of the group.

Andrea was pacing back and forth, tears in her eyes and already beginning to spill over as everyone just stared. Daryl pursed his lips and nodded his respects to Dale, who he'd grown to greatly respect. Dale was a man of honor, morals, and cared about people. Sometimes it seemed he cared too much.

With a last nod to Dale, Daryl turned and began to walk toward his tent, too shell shocked to even say anything. The group was still standing there as he faded in to the dark night, the moon bright and everything as dead still as could be. Daryl stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked in silence, the only sound being the crunching of his boots on the grass. He couldn't believe _Dale _of all people had fallen victim to this Armageddon. How could _Dale _of all people die?

_Its all your damn fault little brother. You weren't fast enough. If you woulda' got to the old man earlier he wouldn'ta died, _Merle's voice taunted. Daryl scowled and reached his tent, where he unzipped in and collapsed onto what was his makeshift bed. Maybe that was the case, maybe it was his fault.

"Don't be stupid," he muttered to himself.

It wasn't his fault that damn walker had jumped the fence. It wasn't his fault that Dale just had to go out into the field alone. It wasn't his fault that Hershel couldn't do anything. Along with the sadness, he felt a flood of anger.

"You know what? Just shut the hell up Merle. It's not my fault, and you don't control me anymor'. I'm done," Daryl told himself, rolling over and falling into a shallow sleep.

* * *

"That kinda honesty is rare…and brave," Rick said, with his head bowed.

Daryl stood a little apart from the group as Rick spoke, everyone's shadows looming over the freshly turned dirt where the bodies of their dead were laid. "Whenever I'd make a decision…Dale would be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it at one time or another. I didn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us…the truth…who we really are," Rick said.

Daryl adjusted his crossbow on his shoulder the slightest, gazing at the grave with a mix of emotions. Daryl wasn't used to feeling it all…he didn't like being out of control in that way.

"In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honor him is to un-break it. Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves; take control of our lives, our safety, our future. We're not broken; we're going to prove him wrong. From now on, we're going to do it his way. That is how we honor Dale," Rick finished.

Shane looked at Rick, then quickly back down at the ground. Daryl could just tell he didn't like it but he wouldn't dare say a thing. Not even Shane would interrupt this service. Slowly the group paid their respects, heads bowed and with all their attention on the man that everyone respected.

Daryl stood there, watching Lori lead Carl away who was in tears. The poor boy, he was so sensitive to this type of stuff. First the little girl, then Dale. This loss though…this was different, this was Dale. He couldn't imagine how they were going to go on…somehow they would though. Somehow Rick would pull everything together again.

* * *

Later that day Daryl was sitting out by his tent, a stick in his hand. He'd be damned if he couldn't make these into bolts, because he was running out. If Daryl Dixon couldn't carve an arrow, then no one could.

"Daryl…" a shaky voice whispered.

It was so soft he could barely make it out, and for a second he thought it was Carol. Looking up he met the eyes of Carl Grimes, whose eyes were brimming with tears. Alarm shot through Daryl's body, what could be wrong? He wasn't good with that crying shit, in women, children…or anyone for that matter. Daryl had been raised to suck it up, to take it, and quite frankly he couldn't remember the last time he'd cried.

"Carl…what is it?" Daryl responded, a bit lost for words.

A single tear came down Carl's cheek as he sat beside Daryl on the log, letting the tears fall freely onto the dirt below. Daryl set the stick and his hunting knife on the ground, unsure what to do. He'd never had a little boy come crying to him before…

"I…can I talk to you? Shane…"

He couldn't finish the sentence before more tears began to spill. Daryl was alarmed, what had that son of a bitch done to Carl?

"What did Shane do to ya?" Daryl snapped, with an edge to his voice.

He'd never liked him…just something about Shane didn't agree with Daryl. Carl shook his head, hiding his eyes under that police hat of Rick's.

"No…not Shane…I…Daryl, remember when I took the gun from your motorcycle?" Daryl nodded, "Carl if this is bout' that we talked bout' it-"

"Dale, it's my fault he died," Carl blurted out.

Daryl was shocked, what was this kid talking about? A walker had attacked Dale and Carl was nowhere near him.

"Carl, thas' not yer fault. Dale got attacked by a walker-"

"I saw that walker…I was going to shoot it…"

Daryl didn't say anything, just stared at the boy beside him and tried to keep breathing. Carl kept his gaze to the ground and was fidgeting.

"It was stuck in the mud…I was throwing rocks at it and stuff," he whispered.

Carl looked back up at Daryl with more tears in his eyes, "I was going to do it. Shoot it right in the head…but, i-it got free and ran after me and…I ran away."

He paused and looked back at the ground, "If I'd have killed it…Dale would still be here and…"

Daryl finally gathered himself, absorbing this information with shock. Of course he didn't blame the kid…if he was in his position he'd be scared shitless. Wouldn't admit it, but he would. Then there was the other question, why was he telling him this? Why not Rick? Or Lori? Maybe even Shane…but of all people, why him?

"Jus'…Carl, this aint' your fault. You was scared, so you ran."

"But if I would have just shot it. If I would have been man about it like you then Dale wouldn't be dead," Carl cried.

Daryl shook his head; if he knew one thing it was that it wasn't this kid's fault. All other things could be cloudy, but that was crystal clear.

"No Carl. Yer jus' a kid, not a man. You git scared, everyone does," Daryl combated. Carl shook his head, "Not you Daryl. You wouldn't have. You'd have shot it in the head and went on."

"I…it doesn't matter what I'd done. Carl I…" Daryl sighed and ran his hand through his hair; he'd better just say it.

"That isn't true."

"No it is, you'd have just shot it-"

"Not that…I get scared too Carl," Daryl interrupted.

The boy met the redneck's eyes with shock. Why was he lookin so shocked? Even Daryl Dixon wasn't able to escape from everything emotional. He felt things too, even if he was a repression master.

"Y-you do?" Carl echoed.

With another sigh Daryl nodded, "Yup. I do."

"But…but when?"

Daryl thought about it, breaking his gaze off from Carl's still teary one. "Y'know when I was a lil' boy, I got lost in the woods too. Was out ther for nine days straight, n' no one came lookin. I ate berries and wiped my as- butt with poison oak. After that I ended up walkin' into the kitchen n' made myself a sandwich," Daryl told him.

Carl cracked a smile, "You've got to be fibbing Daryl."

Daryl almost smiled a bit himself, "Nah Carl, not kiddin' ya. Even big tough guys like me get scared once n' a while."

Carl laughed, the tears clearing up. Daryl was glad he'd got the kid's mind off of Dale; he didn't need that on his conscience. That would buy Daryl some time to think up a pep speech…hell, he hoped he had enough stories to last all day.

"But still, that's just one time you were scared," Carl replied, looking away.

Daryl put his head in his hand, looking at the boy, "Chu' got to be kiddin' me Carl. Sure that t'was scary, but it isn't all the times I been scared. I was scared of Merle for a while. I was scared of thunderstorms as a kid, after bein' lost in the woods and havin' a big one blow through. Had to hunker down under a tree in the pourin' rain and boomin' thunder. That was horrifying as a kid."

Carl pondered this for a moment, leaving them in silence.

The little boy sighed, "But that still doesn't change the fact that I got Dale killed. That I was too scared to kill that walker."

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Daryl put an arm around the boy, pulling him into a rough hug. In fact he shocked himself by the action…it was a do before think type thing.

"Carl, listen ta me. I told ya before I'm not good at advice n' stuff like that. But…trust me on this one, it's not yer fault," he drew his hands back and looked down at Carl, who's eyes were filled with doubt. He was expecting Daryl to follow up, to say something more…but how could he? Daryl didn't know what to say; he didn't know how to comfort, hell he didn't even know how to show the kid he cared.

Merle had said he wouldn't ever have anyone care about him, cept' for Merle himself who loved him like a brother, but… Daryl couldn't decide if that was one thing his brother was right bout' or not. He spoke again without thinking, and this time he hoped it'd lead somewhere towards the road of resolution.

"Look Carl, you can't blame yerself. I know it is horrible ta think bout', but as I said, you didn't kill Dale. He was jus' at the wrong place at the wrong time. With the walker, you can't blame yerself. Yer just a boy, nun of us would 'spect you ta be able ta shoot a walker at yer age, let alone have the courage to try," Daryl explained.

"But-"

"I'm not finished. Lemme' tell ya somethin'… when yer an man sometimes ya have ta live with things ya with you could take back. Me included Carl; everyone does things they wish they could change. But part of growin' up is livin' with those things, learnin' from the mistakes and goin' on with yer life," Daryl said, looking at Carl. "This whole camp, these people, rely on hope ta keep them a goin'. They rely on strength ta keep movin' even though it seems everythin' has stopped. Ya gotta' have strength ta keep movin' Carl. Learn from yer mistakes, move on, and stay strong. In this world, thas' whatcha need. It's what yer family needs from ya, to stay strong," Daryl finished, leaving the two in silence.

Carl stopped fidgeting and seemed to really absorb what Daryl had just said. Hell, Daryl was having a hard time absorbing what he'd just said. Where those words came from, he didn't know. Finally after what seemed like hours of silence, Carl spoke.

"Okay."

"Hm?" Daryl grunted, pulling himself out of nervous thought. What had he said wrong? Did he mess up big time?

The kid stood up, facing Daryl, "Okay. You're right Daryl. I'll be strong, I'll be more careful. I'll do it for this group, my parents, myself…and you."

Daryl just looked at the boy, with determination on his face that he hadn't seen in a while. This kid was a fighter that's for sure; he was Rick's son. He'd come back from a gunshot wound like his daddy, and kept on fighting even though the world seemed to crumble around him.

"I…" Daryl was lost for words again.

Carl adjusted his hat and began to walk away before he ended up running back, tackle-hugging Daryl. Caught off guard the redneck almost fell over backwards off the log. He felt Carl's little arms go around him and the boy's face pressed into his shoulder. At first he wasn't sure what to do, but slowly he returned the hug. Carl pulled back and gave him a smile.

"Thank you Daryl…you're pretty cool," Carl once again began to walk off; leaving a shell shocked Daryl Dixon staring after him.

Daryl cracked a smile, digesting it all and feeling all warm inside again. He began to realize that this feeling wasn't so much of an annoyance as he previously thought. In fact…it felt kind of…well hell, he didn't even want to say it. Daryl stood up, stretching his stiff legs and watched the boy pass his tent, back up towards the house. He then realized he'd forgot to say something.

"Hey Carl," Daryl hollered.

The boy once again turned around, "Yeah?"

"How's about I teach ya how ta shoot?"

Carl's eyes lit up at the question and he nodded furiously.

"I'm gonna go ask mom! You're the coolest Daryl," Carl answered, breaking off into a run towards the house.

Daryl watched him till he got there and chuckled in spite of himself, he could get used to this kid.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on that chapter guys, had a bunch of stuff to do for school so I didn't get a chance to write. Well I found that sweet to write, what do you guys think? Review and let me know what your thoughts are :) Reviews are awesome!**

**Thanks to all of those who story alerted, favorite author and story, along with even author alert. I was astounded when I came back to check my email after just one day and about 8 emails greeted me with this, it made my day. You're all awesome, thank you so much!**


	3. Patience

** #3 Patience**

"He asked to _what_?" Lori Grimes squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

Carl rolled his eyes; sometimes his mother could get on his nerves to the highest degree. He'd just rushed back up to the house to ask her if Daryl could teach him how to shoot! It truly would be a miracle if she would say yes, but it didn't stop Carl from hoping.

"He asked me if I wanted to learn how to shoot, I said yes. Daryl said he'd teach me Mom, can I? Please?" Carl practically begged.

Lori was just about to blurt out an instant no, but then she hesitated. Carl put on his best puppy dog face and crossed his fingers as she chewed her lip.

Carl could just imagine what was going through his mother's thoughts. Most likely it was something to do with Ralphie's Red Rider bee bee gun and him shooting his eye out…why he thought of the old movie that they'd always watched around Christmas, he wasn't sure, but it seemed applicable enough.

Sure, Carl had some close calls, but he wasn't nearly as stupid as he was sometimes perceived. She looked conflicted; so Carl tried option number two, prove it'd be good and safe.

"Mom, I know that you want me to be safe, I understand. I want to stay safe too, and you're not going to be able to protect me all the time. I need to be prepared in case something happens; I have to know how to handle a weapon. I want to help protect the camp and I can't do that without knowing how to shoot."

Lori seemed stunned at her son's speech, this world was making her boy grow up too fast…Or was that just the natural way of things? True, he was getting more responsible, but responsible enough to carry a loaded weapon?

Her thoughts flashed back to the sight of her baby laying on Hershel's bed with a gunshot wound threatening his death. After that she'd never wanted him to be around guns ever again…but with the world changed as it was, that wasn't an option anymore.

Carl was sent over with a wave of disappointment, as he saw his Mom put her hands on her hips this wasn't a good sign. What was he going to tell Daryl?

"Carl…I understand you want to help. But you're just a boy-"

"Mom please, this is something that I have to learn. I have to be able protect myself from walkers," Carl protested.

Lori shook her head, tossing her brown hair to the side, "No Carl. Not this time."

Carl's face fell and disappointment began to set in. He knew it would be no good to ask "why" or say "but". If anything it would set it in stone…and instead of 'this time' it would be for good.

Lori took a breath, "I'll tell you what though. If you'd like I'll ask your father to teach you some basics of the gun."

Carl immediately shook his head, "No thanks Mom. It's okay."

Carl let his father's hat fall low over his eyes, but it didn't manage to hide the disappointment that seemed to radiate from him. Lori chewed her lip as she watched her boy go into the house without words, dragging his feet. She almost regretted saying no…but she knew it was for the best.

What puzzled her greatest was why Daryl Dixon would be offering to teach her son how to shoot. When did they ever develop their relationship to that point? Lori hadn't even seen Carl hold a conversation with the man that didn't last for more than a minute…why on earth would he be offering to teach Carl? Lori sighed, men were so strange.

* * *

Daryl almost wanted to do a cartwheel…not that he even knew what that was, but he felt like doing something to demonstrate his substantial success. He turned the almost perfect arrow over in his hand, carved out of a tree branch he'd found while scouring the forest. On his first try this wasn't too bad of work, somethin he could be proud of.

"Now only ten more to go," he muttered to himself, picking up another stick out of his pile.

He'd already fitted the arrow to his bow and surprisingly it fit perfectly. Daryl was torn out of his thoughts by the crunching of boots on leaves. Hunting had made his senses almost extrasensory, being able to hear something before he saw it, that and tracking it easily.

Lifting his head up he saw Lori Grimes walking up, looking at the ground. She gave him a smile as she approached the log he was sitting on. What in the hell would this woman want? He hadn't hardly spoke two sentences with her.

"Hey Daryl, could I ask you a question?" She asked, trying to be nice.

Daryl's eyes shot back down to the stick he was busy whittling into an arrow. "Bout' what?"

Lori exhaled a breath and put her hands on her hips, a normal woman's posture.

"Well I was talking with Carl about ten minutes ago and he said something about you offering to teach him how to shoot…" She trailed off.

Oh, it was protective mother talk.

Daryl grunted, "Yup, I offered."

Lori paused, still confused as to why Daryl would offer. Apparently her son and this man had a better relationship than she previously thought.

"I see, well that was a very gracious offer. Just out of curiosity I was wondering why," Lori responded, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

Daryl dug his hunting knife into the wood and scraped, sending a sliver of wood towards the ground. Why had he offered? Was it because it was something that needed to be done? For some reason he couldn't shake the fact that it was because he cared… Daryl frowned; this emotional shit was getting to him.

"'Cause he need ta learn."

"I see…well, he's just a boy-"

"Ma'am wit all due respect, times have changed. The title jus' a boy don't mean nuthin' anymor'. Bettur learn now, cause' I wouldn't want em' wishin' he'd learned when a walker's snarlin' in his face," Daryl snapped.

Lori tried to open her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She'd have liked to believe that she could always protect Carl…but that belief was shattered the moment she learned he'd been shot. She'd have liked to believed that this cruel world wouldn't take a child…but that belief was shattered when they found Sophia in that barn. She'd have liked to believed that Daryl was wrong, Carl even…but she knew it was true. Lori just didn't want to believe it.

"I know but what if he get's hurt, or worse shot again," Lori whispered, her voice cracking a bit.

Daryl looked at her, setting his carving equipment down and getting up, walking past her towards Merle's motorcycle. Lori watched him go with confusion, crossing her arms over her chest as he pulled a black pistol out of the saddlebag.

He stood in front of her with it in his hand, "I know these things inside n' out Lori. I know how to handle one safely, and if yer boy wants me ta teach em' then that'll be the furst thing he learns. Guns ain't a toy, he understands that."

Lori looked from the gun to Daryl and nodded slowly. Daryl put the gun back in the saddlebag and rubbed his beard, looking back at Lori.

"Now fer whatever reason he came ta me, askin' to learn. If you feel more comfortable for Shane or Rick to teach em' then I won't object. But I will tell ya this. Carl will be safe, that's nuthin you have ta worry bout'."

Lori considered, she hardly knew this man…but if Rick trusted him, and the group too, then why shouldn't she? He was heavily experienced in firearms, and bows, so his word seemed truthful…

Lori sighed, "Alright. I'll send him over. Though so help me if he exhibits the tiniest amount of behavior that treats it as something other than a weapon-"

Daryl gave her a slight smile, "Lori, you've got a good boy. He'll be jus' fine. I can promise you he won't be hurt."

Lori looked at the ground and chewed her lip before nodding firmly. She didn't want to do this; it scared her to death…but the thought of him being unable to defend himself against a walker…that scared her more. Hopefully she was making the right decision, because she'd never forgive herself if something happened to him…

"Alright…Thank you Daryl," Lori said, giving him a half smile and turning away, heading back towards the house.

Daryl watched her go, picking up his knife and sticks again. That warm feeling was back again but he was growing not to mind it as much.

* * *

"Furst thing's furst, safety. Yer mother wanted it to be a priority, and I do too. This here gun aint a toy Carl. This is a weapon; it can be used responsibly or irresponsibly. Do you understand that?" Daryl instructed.

The small boy beside him nodded, "Yes Daryl."

Daryl surveyed their area one last time, coming to the conclusion that this grassy clearing in the trees would do. It was open enough so that no walkers could sneak up on them that easy but concealed enough so that no one would disturb them. The grass was about ankle deep, brown and crunchy, but they could deal with it.

Daryl crouched in front of the boy, setting his crossbow on the ground as he unloaded the weapon, sticking three shiny bullets into his pants pocket.

"Now, we're gonna give ya the basics now. In order to shoot a weapon safely, ya have to know a few things. There is something on here called a safety, it is an indication if the weapon is ready to fire er' not," Daryl said, showing the boy.

Carl watched intently and kept his eyes on Daryl at all times, absorbing the information like a sponge. This was all so fascinating to him it seemed, and Daryl had never seen him so focused.

"When ye' get ready to shoot a gun, ya always gotta make sure of that safety. You don't wanna be caught in a life er death situation and have the safety on. If yer gonna point a gun at somethin', be serious about shootin' it."

Carl nodded waiting for Daryl to continue. Daryl shifted his weight, getting up and coming to the boy's side to where they were facing a tree about 50 feet away, where he'd carved a circle into earlier.

"Now, when it comes to holdin' it. Different weapons have different kicks, ye know what that is?"

"Yeah, where it jolts you back," Carl answered with a smile.

"Good fer you, you're well on yer way. You have smaller hands than a full-grown man, but you should be able to hold it okay. Take yer right hand and mold it around the gun, overlapping it with the other hand ta keep er' steady. Yer index finger on the right hand should be restin' on the trigger," Daryl said.

He demonstrated this exact motion with Carl watching intently. Daryl gave him a reassuring nod and handed him the unloaded pistol.

"Yer turn."

Carl took the gun from him, surprised by its weight, but quickly adjusted. He did his best to wrap his tiny hands like Daryl had said. Daryl was impressed; the kid had got it right on his first try. He held it perfectly with his hands wrapped around securely and his finger on the trigger.

"Good, good. Yer doin' a great job. Now you want to hold it out from your body jus' a bit. Make sure ya don't go too far, cuz it could come back and pop ya in the face if yer not careful," Daryl instructed.

Carl held it out just a bit too far so Daryl reached his hands out, pulling the boy's arms into position. Carl looked over at him and grinned, Daryl returned this with a half smirk.

"Doin' good. Now we git to aiming. This part takes some practice, but it's nuthin' you can't handle. Aim where you want to hit yer target, just a lil' below or a lil' up from where ye' want the bullet ta go," Daryl explained.

"Can I shoot it now?" Carl asked eagerly moving his eyes from the gun to Daryl. Daryl chuckled, "Not yet little man. Yer gonna shoot soon 'nuff."

Carl laughed, "I'm still amazed that Mom let me…she just came in and apparently changed her mind. That never happens."

Daryl smirked but kept his mouth shut, he wasn't going to mention that was probably only because he assured her Carl'd be fine. That was something he was going to keep to himself.

"Well now yer gonna' learn," Daryl replied, taking the gun from him and gripping one of the bullets in his pocket.

Carefully he popped out the cartridge and loaded it with three bullets, snapping it back into place. He handed it to Carl and watched as the boy gripped and held it like he had been instructed.

"Remember what I said, don't point the gun n'less ya mean ta pull the trigger," Daryl reminded him, standing up.

Carl chewed his lip as concentration came over the boy's face, his eyes narrowing on the target. There was a pop as the gun fired, with the bullet not even hitting the tree the target was on…but the neighboring one. Carl seemed to handle the recoil from the gun well and frowned when he noticed he didn't hit anything. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Daryl.

"Awww," Carl said. Daryl on the other hand was beaming with pride, for a first shot that wasn't too shabby.

It wouldn't be long before this kid would be knocking out bull's eyes. And to think he was the one that'd taught him…Daryl couldn't help but crack a smile.

Daryl ruffled Carl's hair, "Not bad for yer first try. Don't worry, you'll get it. Takes hours of practice kid."

Carl seemed satisfied with the answer and his gaze wandered back to the target as he put the gun into position again. The boy pulled the trigger and once again missed. Daryl was proud of him nonetheless.

* * *

For the remainder of the evening they went about shooting…but it seemed Carl wasn't satisfied with his progress. He'd been able to hit the tree a few times, but only nicked the target once.

Daryl loaded the gun with Carl's last three bullets for the day and handed the gun back to the small boy, who took it. Setting himself up right, he aimed and fired, missing the tree again.

"Dangit!" Carl exclaimed, with a sigh of annoyance.

He held the gun at his side and looked frustrated, with that hat low on his eyes again. Daryl couldn't even start to understand how he was able to see.

"I can't hit a thing!"

Carl then handed the gun back to Daryl and stood there with a frown on his face.

"Hey now, don't give up yet. There's no way yer gonna' be a pro after you've shot fer a day. Do you know how long it took me to do this?"

Daryl then proceeded to pick up the crossbow one-handed, aiming for half a second and releasing an arrow…hitting the dead center of the target. Carl looked amazed, looking back at the arrow and then at Daryl. It took a hell of a lot longer than the kid realized. He wasn't just going to be ready to take out things a day after he'd first handled the gun.

"Took years Carl. I'll tell ya another thing it took, a hel- heck of a lot of patience and devotion. In order ta tame the bull, you have ta have the patience to work with it. This works the same way with a gun, with anything," Daryl told him.

Carl looked at the ground and then back up at Daryl, "Maybe this isn't for me…I don't seem to be all that good."

Daryl frowned; this kid was beginning to sound like him. Merle always found a way to convince him that he wasn't good enough; he didn't have what it takes. Those thoughts had put set backs in his life that he'd never dreamed it would have effected...

"Anyone's just as good as another in this world Carl. Yer Rick's son for God's sake, if there's sucha' thing as hereditary gun ability…then yer gonna' get it," Daryl reassured.

Carl cracked a smile, "Hereditary gun ability?"

Daryl chuckled, "Whaddya want me to say kid? All I know is yer mad fer the job. Just have patience."

Carl sighed and took the gun from him, "Alright…I'll try again."

Daryl handed it back to him and crouched to the left of him, eyeing the target. This was the last bullet for the day, but never the less they'd be back tomorrow. Daryl planned to get this kid just as good as he was, if not better.

"Alright, keep er' steady," Daryl instructed, watching as the boy wrapped his hands around the pistol.

"Aim."

Carl did as he said, holding the gun steady and eyes dead set on that tree. The kid was concentrating so hard that his tongue poked out of the left side of his mouth, which Daryl found amusing.

"And fire," Daryl finished.

The shot echoed through the trees, causing some nearby birds to squawk and fly to whoever knows where. Carl slowly lowered the gun and peeked at the tree, a smile spreading across his face as he saw it.

Carl laughed and strangle hugged Daryl around the neck, almost knocking him over. Daryl was surprised by this action, but pulled back quickly to see what he was so excited about. Looking over at the tree, Daryl squinted his eyes and cracked a smile.

"Well I'll be damned," Daryl exclaimed.

It was a bull's eye.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter has been about a week in the making. Since school is almost over then I should be able to write more regularly and update more often for that matter. Please tell me how you like it :) Review my amazing readers!**

**Thanks to all who reviewed last chapter and those who favorited this story as well as story alert :D you guys are awesome!**


	4. Respect

**#4 Respect **

Lowering his bow, Daryl Dixon stepped over a log and picked up a squirrel, easily ripping the arrow out of the flesh, right in the spot he'd aimed for. Grabbing the little bugger, he attached it to the string of them on his belt loop, deciding to call it a day. He'd already traveled pretty far out into the woods though he enjoyed every minute of it. Daryl was in his element. Survival in the woods? Piece of cake.

Shouldering his trusty crossbow, Daryl squinted from the bright sun that blinded his vision and scanned his surrounding for dead sons of bitches that would try to catch him off guard. For clumsy assholes, they could be so quiet sometimes. These days you always had to be alert.

Aimlessly Daryl's thoughts wandered as he made his way back to his tent on the edge of the woods, ready to get these squirrels bumping against his hip cleaned. The only sound seemed to be the crunching of his boots on some of the leaves that had fallen on the forest floor, which he didn't mind. He didn't mind being alone with nature even if the only sound was the leaves and maybe some occasional birds chirping.

Most of his childhood he'd been alone. His dad was never there, and even if he was he wasn't _there_. Merle's ass was always in prison, making up for the latest guy he'd been punching on for whatever reason. At a young age he'd learned to survive, and boy was that paying off a few years down the road, whether he liked it or not. It ran in the Dixon blood.

He sighed as he spotted his tent through the foliage, coming out from the dense woods directly over to the tree that he'd set up shop under…that and this strange fireplace like thing that was out in the middle of nowhere.

Plopping down, Daryl immediately began to clean the squirrels, flicking the guts into the fire that he'd burn later. He didn't want some pesky wildlife drifting into camp to investigate that. Laying each of the seven squirrels out on a few sticks, he paused before grabbing a lighter to start the fire. Would the others want some?

Cursing to himself he picked up four of them and wiped his hand on his pants before beginning the journey to the house. Merle'd be having a fit if he saw how Daryl had been changing…and Daryl himself didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. It felt strange…but it didn't feel wrong.

* * *

A few minutes later Daryl was coming upon the old barn, squirrel in hand. He lifted his head up, rubbing his hand roughly across his chin, when he saw an interesting scene up ahead.

Just about thirty yards ahead Carl Grimes was crouching over by the graves, looking down on what Daryl perceived to be Sophia's grave with a blank expression. Carol began to approach with a bag hanging at her hip and said something to the boy Daryl couldn't make out. He slowed his pace but kept walking as the two talked.

Carl then got up roughly, looking at Carol with a harsh stare as he said something. Carol got a hurt look on her face as Daryl caught the last part of Carl's sentence, something about being an idiot. Carl stomped off in a random direction, looking angry and not even bothering to look back at the woman. Carol looked shocked, and Daryl quickened his pace, now being only a few steps away from the woman. She looked up, meeting his eyes barely and then looked away again. "What'd he say?" Daryl drawled, looking at her.

Carol's lip trembled as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking everywhere but at him. It seemed that she was trying hard not to cry. Once again with that crying stuff…he could barely handle it with Carl, but a woman? No way in hell.

"Rick needs to control that boy. Disrespectful," Carol whispered.

Daryl's expression changed into a frown, what'd he say?

"Carol what'd he say?"

"Somethin' cruel about Sophia," she responded, turning away and trudging back to the house without another word.

Daryl sighed and dropped the squirrels randomly on the ground, turning to where Carl had walked off to and instantly started off into a fast walk in that direction. What was that boy thinking when he'd said something to her? Sophia was all that woman had left, and now she was gone too.

Daryl shook his head in disgust, remembering the moment they'd found her in that God forsaken barn. That meant the world to everyone, finding her alive. It was something they could all hope for…a miracle perhaps. But like everything else it was ripped away from her. Carl could certainly understand that.

Lifting his gaze again, Daryl spotted Carl up ahead standing by a tree, just looking out over the open fields. For a moment Daryl almost stopped, who was he to discipline this boy? It was Rick's job…because Carl wasn't his to care for… Why did he care anyway? That was a question he still couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Carl!" Daryl said.

The boy turned around, his face seeming to brighten as Daryl approached him.

"Oh hey Daryl. Are we shooting today-"

"What did you say to Carol?" Daryl growled, coming face to face with the boy.

Instantly his smile dropped and he looked at the ground, not saying anything. "Look at me. You tell me now, er' we're not shootin' again."

Carl looked up instantly, that got his attention. He looked surprised and sort of afraid at the same time as Daryl's cold, blue stare fixated on him. Daryl was completely serious about the threat though, the boy needed to learn some self-control before he could be trusted with a weapon like he thought he deserved.

"I…I told her…"

"C'mon boy, tell me. Exact words, or so help me we won't be shootin' again," Daryl snapped.

"Alright…she told me that Sophia was in a better place and I said no she's not, and that you're an idiot if you believe in heaven…" Carl confessed, looking ashamed.

A flash of anger went through Daryl. Why on earth would Carl ever say something like that? What was wrong with him?

Daryl raised his hand, with all intent to clap the boy across the head, but instantly came to a stop in mid swing. The boy recoiled, flinching away even though the blow didn't descend upon him. When he peeked his eyes open all Daryl could see was his fear. The boy looked dead afraid of him, like he was a walker. That gaze…that face…that fear, it took him back to a place he didn't want to go. His childhood memories…

That same expression was the same one he wore at his age when he father beat him. The scars from those beatings were still present today, lacing his back and stomach in nasty patterns.

Daryl recoiled himself, shock in his eyes at what he'd just tried to do to Carl. Standing up from his crouching position he looked at his hand and back at the boy, horrified that he was becoming what his father was. Carl began to back up, stumbling over some of the tree's roots and falling down. Daryl was just speechless… was he becoming the monster that'd he'd sworn he never would be? How could he even think of doing such a thing to such a good boy? One that he could barely admit to himself that was growing on him.

Carl scrambled up as Daryl approached, backing up slowly before he turned his back and ran back towards the house.

"No Carl, please, wait! I'm sorry. Damnit I'm so sorry!" Daryl yelled, his voice wavering a bit.

Carl didn't even turn around and kept on running, his hat falling off. He didn't even stop to pick it up…

"Damnit! God damnit!" Daryl yelled to himself, pounding his left fist into the tree trunk and ignoring the pain.

He leaned his head against the tree trunk, feeling the rough bark against his skin. What an asshole he was, a stupid stupid asshole. The friendship with that kid? Well that was probably just as good as gone to hell, all because of he screwed up, again. That was nothing new, because it seemed all he was is a worthless screw up. Hell, maybe Merle was right, about all of it. If he had any sense in the first place he wouldn't have even tried to discipline Carl because that was Rick's job. He should have done what he was good at and stayed the hell away from everything.

"Worthless screw up. Stupid dumbass," Daryl cursed, saying worse things mentally.

Rising his head from the tree he began to stalk back to his camp, taking Carl's same route. His hands were in fists and he was angrier than he'd been in a long time…but why did it matter so much? Why did this upset him so bad? He blamed it on his old man for the shit he was treated like as a kid.

The answer, because he cared, was as far away as he could put it…because if he really cared he wouldn't have done that…even if it seemed instinct. If he cared that bad he would have fought it…

Daryl cursed again as he tripped over something, glaring at what was on the ground- He recoiled, lifting his foot off of it as he saw what it was. It was Carl's hat… Daryl paused, staring at the hat that he knew meant so much to that boy. He had half a mind to leave it…but he knew it would just blow away or something. If it meant so much to the kid, then why did he leave it?

"You've done enough," Daryl growled to himself.

He wasn't going to leave that in the dirt either…he'd tell Rick he'd found it later. Hell, Carl was probably telling Rick right now how Daryl had tried to beat him. Daryl'd be lucky if he wasn't run off the farm by tomorrow…maybe that was for the best. They didn't need him anyway.

Daryl sighed and picked up the hat against his better judgment, starting to walk again. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea, leaving, these people didn't need him as baggage anyway. Just like Merle had said, no one was ever going to care anyway… Daryl dusted off Carl's hat and turned it over in his hands.

The part of him that he kept as far back in his mind as he could…just wished the boy would come back to get it.

* * *

Daryl waited. He waited for three days before he decided to call it quits. He waited, with the minutes passing by like hours as he whittled more arrows, hunted squirrels, skinned the squirrels, organized the bike's saddlebags, cleaned out his tent, oiled his crossbow, and organized the saddlebags again.

He came up with stupid reasons to stay in his camp, and he came up with stupid reasons to look up every once in a while…hoping to see Carl running through the tall grass of the field like an idiot, begging Daryl to go shoot.

They'd had at least five shooting sessions since the first time, each day with Carl getting to be a better and a better shot. The last time he'd taken Carl out to shoot it was becoming a regular occurrence for the kid to get a bulls eye. As a matter of fact, the last time he'd said he'd have to increase the distance they were from the target by double since he was improving so fast. Once that kid caught onto something, there was nothing you could stop him from becoming a pro.

That night after the incident…Daryl hadn't slept well at all. All night he tossed and turned, memories of his childhood haunting his mind. The night wind whispered everything he'd ever done wrong, all his faults, humilities, and times where he'd let people down. God knows there were too many to count. He didn't understand why he cared so much, why it was killing him, why he couldn't bring himself to go talk to the kid and apologize… Carl wouldn't want to see him anyway.

The second night hadn't been much better; the guilt was bugging him to no end. Since when did Daryl Dixon ever feel guilt? Or anything so deep for that matter! He couldn't understand why this bothered him so much. The third night he really thought about his options. He thought so much he didn't get to sleep till almost the sun was coming up, and even then he only slept a good hour or so.

It was the beginning of the fourth day with not a trace of Carl, nothing. There hadn't been a trace of anyone else either. They'd either deemed him an outcast for what he'd almost done, or the camp had just been busy. He figured it was the first one. Daryl had determined his choice last night…it was time to go. They didn't need him anymore; hell they didn't need him in the first place. It was obvious Carl didn't deserve a teacher as worthless as he was anyway…

Daryl got to work, packing up all the stuff he could for the remainder of the afternoon. He wound his covers up from inside his tent and strapped everything on the bike, hoping it would all fit. Working diligently, he got everything done by sundown. The last thing to go was his tent.

Daryl stuffed the last of the squirrel in his mouth and began to disassemble the tent, with his back to the farmhouse. He'd noticed earlier the lights were on, so the women probably decided to cook dinner for Hershel's family again. Everyone seemed to be getting along well, which was just dandy.

Daryl shoved the poles into one of those tent bags this had came in and started on the back right one, swiftly yanking it up out of the ground and sliding it into the bag with the other one. He moved onto the next one glancing up at the tree that he'd hung Carl's hat on three days ago.

There was a stub of a branch that'd been cut off…so it was the perfect rest for the hat. While going through the saddlebags earlier, he'd found the gun they had been training with for days. Daryl had contemplated what he would do with it…and in the end he decided he was just going to leave it. If Carl ever wanted to come back for his hat, he'd at least have a gun. It wasn't going to take away what he'd done, but it would hopefully count for something.

There was a small crack and Daryl was too in thought to dismiss it as anything but the fire. Speaking of the fire, he'd have to put that out before he left, didn't want to catch a damn forest fire because of his stupidity. Daryl finished up his third pole and dragged the bag over to the fourth one, which was proving more difficult than the previous three. He needed to hurry his ass up so he could leave by dark, that way it would be easier to escape without anyone questioning him- "Daryl…what are you doing?"

Daryl froze in place, with his hands gripping the pole, registering that voice. He knew that voice…but could it be? Hell, was he hallucinating from lack of sleep or something? Slowly Daryl turned around and came face to face with Carl Grimes, looking at him with sad eyes. Daryl dropped the pole, letting that and the bag fall into heap that used to be his tent. Carl's eyes went over to the motorcycle that was loaded down with stuff and then back to Daryl.

"You're…you're leaving?" Carl said, his voice cracking.

Daryl didn't know what to say. Why was he even here? Why did he care? He was so confused.

"Yeah…" Daryl responded, fixing his eyes on the boy.

Carl looked sad, his eyes huge and sad as he looked at the ground like he always did when he was sad, or not sure what to say.

"But…no! Daryl no you can't-"

"It's best fer everyone," Daryl interrupted, saying it before he could change his mind. "Who's going to teach me to shoot?" Carl shot back.

Daryl picked up the tent bag again, pulling the last pole out and shoving it in there, looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye.

"Who shoulda been teachin' ya in the furst place. Yer daddy, er' Shane."

Carl let out an irritated breath, "No! I don't want them to teach me! Daryl please don't go."

Daryl clenched his teeth together, getting back up from his crouch and dropping the bag again.

"How could ya say that?" He shouted.

Carl looked surprised, but not scared, and just looked at him.

"How n' the hell could ya say that after what I did ta you? Ya should be pushin' for me ta go! You deserve better Carl. Better than me. Anyone's better than me."

They were in silence for a few seconds with Daryl breathing heavy and Carl just staring. It was true, so why wasn't the kid doing exactly that?

"Why do you think I asked you to teach me to shoot?" Carl asked simply.

"Hell I don't know, cuz ya wanted to learn I guess," Daryl muttered.

What was he getting at?

"If I just wanted to learn just because, I could have asked my dad or Shane. Why do you think I told you about Dale and the walker?"

"Cuz…you needed someone ta tell?"

He wasn't good with this shrink, psychology shit…what'd that boy been learning out of Lori's school lessons?

"If I just needed someone to tell, don't you think my dad or mom would be the people I'd tell?"

Daryl sighed, "I spose' Carl. Look, the point is that I screwed up. I don't want to do it again…"

"That's exactly the point, you screwed up, so like my dad says. You made a mistake, fix it. Carol told him what happened, and he was right, you were right. I had no right to talk to her like that…but losing Sophia too just had me upset. I should have respected her, and believe it or not…you made me realize that," Carl confessed.

"I know you were upset too, and you didn't hit me. I was scared is all, angry…just please don't leave Daryl. You're…you're about the only friend I have left."

Daryl was shocked by this speech…though it seemed what the boy said was entirely true. He knew he didn't want to leave, he knew that most of those things he said were just fueled by anger. Above all, he wished he could have taken it back so it didn't have to be like this. But…he did make a mistake, so…he should fix it.

"Carl…I'm just so sorry. I swear I didn't mean it…I wish I could take it back. You have every right-"

"To forgive you," Carl interjected, with a half smile.

Daryl sort of cracked a smile himself, that kid had a way of cheering people up. His happiness…was almost contagious. Daryl sighed, there wasn't any point in breaking Carl's heart. He did promise he was going to teach him to shoot, and wasn't Daryl himself the one to preach to Carl about honesty? Keeping promises was in there somewhere too, because he wanted it to be.

"Alright…I'll stay," Daryl replied, giving in.

Carl's eyes lit up, and he smiled, making Daryl himself give him a small smile in return. Would he regret this later? He hoped not.

"Thank you! You're the best Daryl, you really are," Carl gushed with a laugh.

"Suck up. Y'know what…yer missin' somethin," Daryl told him.

"What?" Carl asked, not expecting the sudden subject change.

Daryl reached up on the tree where Carl's hat was hanging, swaying in the breeze. Bringing it down, he set it gently on Carl's head. The boy peeked up over the hat brim with a smile.

"That's better. I don't see how ya see over the tip of it, but knock yerself out," Daryl responded with a chuckle.

"You picked it up for me…I went back to look for it and it wasn't there. I figured the wind blew it away," Carl confessed.

"Sure I did. Know how much it means ta ya."

Daryl looked down at the boy's happy expression, glad that everything worked out. For whatever reason he was forgiven…and all those negative thoughts didn't really seem so favorable. It was probably just the inner Merle in him speaking. In that case, what do you do? Ignore him.

"You look exhausted," Carl said.

Daryl shrugged, "Yah haven't been sleepin' well…"

"Well then go to bed! Mom doesn't know I'm gone anyway."

Daryl smirked, "Member what I told ya, respect yer adults."

Carl laughed, "You're right Daryl, I better get back…shooting tomorrow?"

Daryl considered, choosing his words carefully as Carl seemed to hold his breath.

"No," Daryl responded.

Carl looked surprised and his face fell. He didn't object though and just nodded to Daryl.

"Okay…see you tomorrow Daryl-"

"I ain't taken ya shootin'. We're goin' huntin'," Daryl responded with a smirk.

Carl's face lit up again, "Really? Cool! I've never been hunting! Get some sleep! Bye!"

Carl then stumbled off, getting up to the house safely. Daryl made sure of that. He smiled to himself as he put his tent back up and the fire out before he finally let his head hit the pillow. After three almost sleepless nights he was ready to rest his tired eyes in peace.

Better thoughts filled his mind this time and he couldn't wait to show Carl some hunting techniques. For sure the boy would enjoy that, and it would give him great experience. Daryl couldn't believe how happy he was…there wasn't a time he could remember that he was this content. It'd been a long time.

For the first time in three days, Daryl Dixon got a good night's sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed :D thought I'd make sure to get you another chapter before finals start overwhelming me this week. Sorry this is kind of out of order, because in the show this happens before Dale dies, and Carl was talking to him about Dale's death in the previous couple chapters...but I still wanted to make sure and write this chapter anyway :) What'd YOU think? Please let me know in a review! **

**Thanks to all that read and put this on story alert! Until next time my lovely readers!**


	5. Sympathy

**#5 Sympathy**

"Daryl! Hey Daryl...Daryl?"

Daryl groggily rolled over hearing some voice calling him from what could have been the great beyond for all he knew. The voice sounded muffled but became clearer as he felt something shaking him. With a grunt he opened his eyes and came face to face with none other than Carl Grimes who seemed to be grinning from head to foot. Normally Daryl would have beaten the ass of whoever decided to wake him up from this good of sleep, but he'd learnt his lesson with the kid. So after blinking the sleep out of his eyes and clearing his blurry vision he got to his feet and pushed the tent flap open, stretching and taking in his surroundings.

The fire was still smoldering from last night with wisps of smoke curling up from the coals and filling the air with that camp fire smell that Daryl always found welcoming, just like the forest. The sun was just beginning to peek out from the horizon, bringing a sense of peace with it. It was almost like the shit hadn't hit the fan months ago. It was almost as if he was going on a hunting trip as a boy without a care in the world. Carl immerged from Daryl's tent energy radiating from him like he was on some of Merle's drugs.

"Finally you're awake Daryl! I've been trying to shake you awake for five minutes now! Man, you weren't kidding when you said you didn't get good sleep," Carl babbled, glancing up at Daryl.

Daryl rubbed his stubble and looked down at the boy with the playing of a smile on his lips.

"Told ya Carl. Anyways, don't we have sum huntin ta do?" Daryl drawled, striding over to where he placed his beloved crossbow last night under the tree next to his tent.

Picking up his trusty bow he swung it over his back and gathered the abundance of spare arrows that he'd whittled a couple days earlier, attaching them to the bow.

"I can't believe we're really going hunting! The most outdoorsy I've ever been was when we took a family camping trip like three years ago. It wasn't all that exciting, because it ended up raining most of the time. Mom wasn't too happy to say the least, so we just packed up and headed home early. This is going to be a great adventure," Carl gushed, radiating excitement.

"Whoa whoa, slow down kid. Yer gonna talk my ear off," Daryl chuckled as he passed Carl the small handgun that they had been training with for a little over a week now.

The boy was going to be a dead eye by the time Daryl got through instructing him. Carl didn't seem at all surprised anymore by the gun and stuck it in his pocket with the safety on, bounding after Daryl who's long strides were difficult for the smaller boy to keep up with.

"Fallin' behind already are we?" Daryl teased, flicking the boy's wide brimmed sheriff's hat and causing him to laugh.

"Don't walk so fast then!" Carl protested, frowning when Daryl increased his speed for a couple seconds just to get a rise out of him.

The pair walked in silence for a while with Daryl making sure to scan the forest for any type of movement, whether it is game or walker. His boots crunched through the leaves as he thought about how the winter was coming on. They were still unsure how it would affect the walkers and even their survival too. With no more houses with heating and the temperatures still cold it was going to be hard to keep warm. Daryl knew, winter did test the survival skills to the limit.

"Daryl," Carl said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"What are we looking for?" Carl asked, scanning the undergrowth curiously.

"Game of course. Whether that be squirrel er' deer. Jus' not walker," Daryl grunted, moving his gaze to the ground to try and pick up some deer tracks.

Deer were getting few and far between these days, so it wasn't likely that he would pick up the tracks of one. Even if he did most likely they wouldn't be fresh.

"How are you able to figure out where those deer tracks lead?" Carl asked.

Boy was he just curious today. Daryl shrugged, his attention was on the ground and trying to figure out what this strange trail was... It wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before. Sure he'd seen similar things if an animal was dragging a broken limb or something...well that was probably what it was.

"Huh?" Daryl echoed, giving his attention back to the boy.

"How can you guess what tracks they are?" Carl asked with a laugh.

"Lot of practice kid, a lot," Daryl replied, pausing to scan their surroundings again.

He didn't want some undead bastard to sneak up on them while his ass was busy in la la land. The thought of something happening to Carl because he was being foolish...

"Be watchin' fer walkers," Daryl reminded himself, and Carl, aloud.

"They come this far out into the woods?"

"Course'. I've been seein' quite a few out here lately. Don't get yerself worried bout' it though," Daryl assured him.

As long as he was there nothing would be happening to Rick's boy. For one Lori would kill him, and the guilt would eat him up inside. He'd had some experience with that recently.

"Ew, what's that smell," Carl said nasally, clasping his fingers over his nose.

The smell hit Daryl like a brick to the face and he almost recoiled, but was able to wrinkle his nose and ignore it after the initial whiff. By now everyone should be used to the smell. It truly was like no other, being a mix of rotting flesh with a sour tinge. You could always smell them before you could see them, always.

Daryl gripped his crossbow and slowed his pace, making sure Carl was behind him. With an exhale of breath Daryl peeked behind the tree, bringing his crossbow up and ready to fire. He lowered it a bit when he saw the walker, lying up against the tree with half its limbs chewed off and guts hanging everywhere. Blood stained the ground from where other walkers had torn at the already dead body, resulting to cannibalism since their food supply was dwindling.

Daryl nudged the torso with his boot and was relieved when it didn't show any signs of life. Carl sharply inhaled a breath as he saw the walker, unable to keep his gaze off of it. It was almost like the ultimate graphic video game that kids his age shouldn't be playing. Daryl turned away from the mangled corpse, spinning Carl around with him.

"Let's git goin. He's dead," Daryl grunted, pushing further into the forest and leaving the body of a once living person to rot.

* * *

Gurrr, Daryl couldn't help but chuckle as he turned around, eyeing Carl with amusement in his blue eyes. The boy looked sheepish and patted his stomach lightly. "Guess that means I'm hungry," Carl laughed, plopping down on the nearest tree stump.

Daryl pulled the left over squirrel out of the bag he'd brought and tossed it to Carl, sitting across from him on a rotting log. They'd been traveling for about an hour now and were well into the woods, probably as far as Daryl was going to go for today, at least with Carl here. Pulling some stale trail mix out of a sandwich baggie, he tossed some into his mouth and crunched, watching as Carl struggled to figure out how to eat the squirrel.

Daryl could feel a smile playing at his lips, "Eat it like chicken."

Carl glanced up at him with uncertainty before shrugging and taking the meat into his hand. He nibbled at it slowly and his eyes widened.

"It's actually really good," Carl gaped, taking another bigger bite.

Daryl chuckled, "Yer lookin' at the best squirrel cooker n' all of Georgia kid."

Carl didn't even bother to answer, immediately digging in and devouring the first piece in a couple bites. Damn, he was hungry. Did that mother of his ever feed him? Daryl munched on his trail mix thoughtfully and kept an eye on everything around them. From here they would most likely pick up on the trail of the deer he'd been tracking for the past half hour. With some luck they could be bringing home a deer for the group tonight. Wouldn't little Carl be excited about that, getting a deer on his first hunt.

Before Daryl could blink Carl was licking his fingers and grinning at Daryl, passing the empty brown bag to Daryl. He'd just ate that entire squirrel.

"You were purty hungry," Daryl agreed, throwing the remainder of the trail mix into his bag for later and standing up.

It was almost the middle of the afternoon, but the sun was still brutally beating down through the Georgia forest. It provided some protection from the sun's rays, but not much. Carl stood up too, adjusting his hat and once again following Daryl as they followed the deer's tracks.

"Are we getting close?" Carl asked.

Daryl peered at the ground again, turning his head sideways and taking a left. "I think so." Daryl suddenly stopped as they passed a large tree, causing Carl to run into him.

"Sorry-"

"Sh," Daryl interrupted, putting his finger to his lips and peeking around the tree.

Sure enough a deer stood there, picking at the grass. She was a doe, looking as live as ever and sensitive to the hellish world around her. Carl peeked around Daryl to look at the animal, fascinated. He looked up at Daryl expectantly who raised his crossbow and silently moved forward, holding his hand up to let Carl know to stay. The boy obeyed as Daryl got as close to the deer as he could, preparing the bow and aiming at the deer.

Taking a deep breath he fired, hitting his mark. The deer went down with a thud and writhed a bit before going still. Daryl'd hit is mark.

"Wow I can't believe we actually got a deer!" Carl gushed, helping Daryl the best he could drag the heavy animal through the forest.

Daryl was actually pretty surprised that they'd made such a great kill. Hell, Carl wouldn't shut up about it, though he found it amusing. As a boy he was the same way when he killed his first deer.

"Well yer the one that helped me track it," Daryl told him, glancing down at his hunting partner with a wry grin.

Carl returned it gripped the deer's soft fur as they pulled it back towards camp with only the sound of it dragging on the ground in the forest. Daryl grabbed it's scruff a bit more forcefully and pulled the animal along. He could lift it by himself, easy, but Carl had insisted on helping. How could he say no to that kid anymore?

Chuckling to himself he shook his head, not even thinking about what Merle would say anymore. For all Daryl knew his big brother was dead. It wasn't bothering him so much anymore as when he first got the news. It was almost like he had a better opportunity to become the man he wanted to be without Merle constantly criticizing his every move. In ways it was kind of nice, though he missed the companionship...except it seemed that Carl was beginning to fill that lonely void. It was strange to think about, but it was beginning to be true.

Daryl was instantly jolted out of his thoughts by that horrible smell again and he instantly knew, a walker was around. Daryl's head snapped up as he scanned the area like a hawk for the walker that he knew was somewhere. Carl already seemed to realize this and dropped the deer, looking around.

"Where is it?" Carl gulped, looking nervous.

"Stay close," Daryl hissed, readying his crossbow and letting his senses take over.

They weaved through a couple trees and finally pinpointed the source of the smell. On the ground was a walker with one of its legs gorily chewed apart. As soon as they approached the thing moved, moaning and trying to crawl towards the pair. It appeared to be at one time a man in a pair of kakis and maybe a dress shirt. Whatever he was wearing had been nearly ripped to shreds and left his wrinkly skin stained with blood and dirt. Daryl almost took pity on him; after all, the poor thing was starving. This wasn't any way to die, no matter how much of an asshole you'd been in life.

"That poor guy..." Carl whispered, looking sad as the walker was failing to pull its emaciated body towards them in an attempt to get food.

It reminded Carl of that walker that his dad had mentioned the one that he'd killed before coming to find them.

"Well... he's been here too long. The proper thing ta do would be to give the poor thing sum peace. Sympathy fer the misfortuned," Daryl replied with a sigh, raising his bow and aiming for the head.

"Wait. No," Carl blurted out, "I'll do it."

Daryl lowered his bow and peeked over at the boy, surprised. Where did he get all this courage from all of a sudden? Daryl slowly nodded and watched as Carl stood up, bracing himself and pulled the handgun from his pocket. He exhaled and undid the safety, making sure to not put his finger on the trigger until the moment he knew it was time to shoot. With one final look at the walker and then at Daryl, Carl pulled the trigger and put it out of its misery.

* * *

"You know Lori; I haven't seen Carl around camp much anymore. Where'd he run of to?" Carol mused, picking up a shirt and clipping it to the line before peering at the dark haired woman to her left.

Lori cracked a smile, picking up one of Rick's shirts and adding it to the line of clothes.

"I know, it's almost as if I don't see him anymore. He only sticks around long enough to do his studies and then he's off to go shoot with Daryl. Do this with Daryl, do that," Lori replied with a smile still on her face.

Carol raised her eyebrows, "Oh is he now? Carl has made friends with Daryl?"

Lori laughed, "Hey, you're as surprised as I was. From that first moment that boy ran up to me asking if Daryl Dixon could teach him how to shoot a gun."

Carol gaped, "He really asked that? My, I would have never thought of Daryl to be the type to teach him. Why didn't Rick? Shane for that matter."

Lori shrugged, hanging up another shirt and glancing at the other woman. When she was talking with Carol it made her feel like she was a gossiping teenage girl again. It felt great to have someone to talk to like that.

"Oh believe me I tried. But he just kept insisting that Daryl teach him. What I can't figure out is when they had time to become such good friend. I can't even get any time with him anymore, he's always with Daryl."

Carol smiled, "That's sweet. I think Daryl means well even if he isn't the most inviting on the outside. He has a good heart."

Lori glanced at Carol and then back down at the laundry.

"Well I'm glad to get that reassurance. Some part of me just worries Carol...But then I guess I should have realized that he was different than what we saw on the outside the moment he didn't stop looking for Sophia."

Carol's face fell at the mention of her daughter's name with her insides turning to knots. Her glance when back to the laundry and Lori kicked herself for mentioning it. Carol was still grieving, she knew that.

"Carol I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Carol shook her head, "No Lori, you're right. If that was a test then he would have passed. He never gave up, he gave it his all. That had to show something, some kind of a care in his heart."

Lori slowly nodded, still feeling a twinge of guilt for mentioning Sophia. But Carol did have a point; after all, Daryl had no incentive for looking for a girl he didn't even know. He did it out of the kindness out of his own hidden heart.

"That's very true. I don't have much of an opinion because I don't know him personally, but from what he's done for the group and how Rick trusts him...then I suppose I have no choice but to trust him. That and when we are together, Carl never shuts up about him."

Carol laughed, all trace of sadness seeming to fade from her eyes. She was the strongest woman Lori had ever known. That woman could bear so much pain and be so strong.

"I think you made the right decision Lori. Carl needs someone like that to look up to that isn't necessarily family," Carol assured, going to the other side of the line where she hung the last shirt up.

Lori put her hands on her hips and sighed, sweeping the bangs out of her eyes.

"Thank you Carol. You really make me see a different side to it," Lori replied, looking up as she saw her husband approaching.

She greeted him with kiss and he nodded to Carol, looking really tired. "Where's Carl?" Rick asked.

Lori smiled, "With Daryl. He said something about hunting." Rick raised an eyebrow, "Daryl Dixon taking Carl hunting? First teaching him how to shoot, then this?"

Lori smiled and shrugged, "You've got me. Apparently he has a new best friend now."

"Interesting," Rick drawled with a smirk.

"Mom! Dad! Look what me and Daryl caught!"

Carl's voice interrupted their conversation, causing Lori and Rick to turn their head. Daryl and Carl were a few feet away, lugging a deer with them. Rick looked surprised and Lori and Carol burst out laughing. Daryl couldn't help but smirk as Carl gushed out all the details to his parents. He also didn't miss that glance of what he recognized as approval that Lori blatantly shot his way.

* * *

"Damn, this is some good deer," T-Dog exclaimed, taking another hearty bite of the deer that Daryl and Carl had caught earlier that day.

The whole gang was crowded around Hershel's table, including Daryl, who was of course seated next to Carl. They were able to get the deer skinned and then the ladies worked their magic, turning into a damn good dinner if Daryl said so himself.

Andrea nodded from beside T-Dog, "I'll have to agree with you on that."

"It's all thanks to Carl and Daryl," Lori pointed out with a smile, chewing and savoring the taste of fresh meat once again.

"You got it just right ladies, it's a beautiful catch boys," Hershel commented with the beginnings of a grin on the old man's face.

"It was all Carl, he's a purty good tracker," Daryl added, speaking for the first time in the meal.

Carl narrowed his eyes, punching Daryl's shoulder playfully, "You're the one who tracked it! I just tagged along!"

"Nope, yer the one that brought this deer to the table," Daryl argued, eating another bite.

"He's lying!" Carl couldn't suppress a laugh.

The group chuckled at their brawling and went on with dinner, appreciating each other's company and a real meal for the first time in a long time. They all could stuff themselves this time with plenty to spare, and that was a great feeling. When the dishes were all done the group split from Hershel's family and headed out to their campsite to gather around a fire that Shane had lit moments earlier.

Daryl as usual slipped off from the rest of the group and laid in his tent with his stomach full before he fell into a comfortable sleep. Carl too had been sent to bed by his mother. This time though he didn't protest, because to be honest he was tuckered out from the hunt. The full stomach wasn't helping either. Soon he too was taken by sleep. Everyone else though was busy chatting around the fire, basking in the wonderful morale and the nice night. T-Dog had just cracked a more humorous joke when Glenn spoke up, a grin on his face.

"One question. When did Carl start hanging out with Dixon?"

The group looked to Lori and Rick who both shrugged. Lori leaned back against her husband with her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers interlaced with his.

"That's a good question. I never knew they were such pals. Arguing back there like they were brothers," Andrea mused, grinning.

It was the first time in a while that she'd been carefree and actually happy since Dale had passed. Maybe slowly she was starting to let it go.

Lori chuckled, "One day Carl came bounding up the steps and asked me, 'Can Daryl teach me how to shoot?'. I finally gave in and then they just have been inseparable since then."

"I hardly see him anymore," Rick added.

T-Dog looked impressed, "So someone has finally cracked Dixon's shell."

Andrea raised her eyebrows from beside him, "And who would have thought it would have been Carl to do it?"

* * *

**A/N: I am SO sorry for not updating in a while! I've just gotten back from vacation, been swamped at work, and have been trying to catch up with other stories. That and relaxing because summer is here! Yay!**

**Thank you for all of your views and reviews, this chapter is for those who wanted to see what the camp was thinking about Daryl and Carl :) Don't worry they will get more surprised as I finish this story up. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	6. Update and or Author's note

Author's Note/Update:

Hey guys! Boy has it been a while, and I apologize for that. I just want to start off by saying THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who have followed, favorited, author alerted, reviewed, or story alerted this story, you guys make my day, seriously. That's what gives me the motivation to keep these stories going, along with the start up of season 3 that is! Which brings me to my second point.

First of all who's excited? Have you been watching the new episodes? CRAZY right? I can tell you I've been on the edge of my seat pretty much the whole time, though for reasons I won't go into unless some of you haven't gotten a chance to get caught up yet. Man, what about Carl in this season? He seems to have grown a lot, which is really awesome! :D He could be developed into a really great character! What about Daryl? Still as badass and delicious as ever ;D I could talk all day here.

Anyway after that babbling, here's what's going to be happening with this story. After going back and sort of analyzing it I have other chapters from different events in Season 2 that I'd like to add in, though when I originally got the idea for this story I hadn't planned accordingly for. It started off sort of as a one-shot you could say. These new ideas though have happened before the first chapter's setting, so there's the problem.

My solution is going to be sort of reorganizing the story in order to add these ideas without it being all funky. So, what I'll be doing is switching the chapters up in order of events that actually happened during Season 2. I'll also be adding new chapters ahead of what was originally chapter one.

So, the purpose of this was just to keep you posted on what I'll be doing in the upcoming weeks/days so that if you see a new chapter posted and it's one you've already read you'll know why.

Also, I have plans to sort of continue this type of story after this one is finished, using whatever events happen in Season 3, that is if you guys want to see more of this Daryl/Carl relationship progressing. :D

Leave me your comments on what you think. Also, if there's a part of Season 2 that I haven't thought of so far or a lesson that you think Carl should learn, feel free to either leave a review or send me a message. I'd love to hear what you think!

Once again thank you for your continued support everybody and look forward to another update soon!

-Colby


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